Kiss The Scarecrow

Kiss the scarecrow.
Go on,
you've waited all year for this.

Through mincing, droolmouth springtime.
Through a summer of blindlight hiss.
Girl, go kiss that scarecrow.
For the hit, for the high, for this.

Mama found nine black feathers
in your sheets, your skin, your head.
She slapped you smart with an open fist;
next thing, Mama's dead.

Kiss the scarecrow.
Go on,
step quick between the stalks.

Start from the porch where the black bell hangs.
Cat's cradle noose in the dark.
Girl, go kiss that scarecrow.
Til it tremble, til it burn, til it talk.
______

Image from weheartit.com. Inspiration from mood wings.

  

Comments

  1. No one brings the grue, Shay, like you when you choose to chuck the tender sweet yearning for bloody sacrifice by full moon and dark chant. I ain't kissin it, though. I tried that once and lost my lips.

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  2. Whew! Dark and spooky and luminous.

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  3. Ditto on Joy's comment!

    Man, that is hardcore perfection. I'm going to pick favorite lines, but really, there aren't many outside of that category. The whole second stanza. "She slapped you smart with an open fist" ... then the fact that she died afterward. Like, she turned you into a monster and then she left. So now what do you do? And who is the speaker? Either Papa or a sibling, I'm assuming. So what if Papa happens to be the scarecrow? Like, you think your Mama was scary? Well just wait and see how bad it's gonna get with Daddy. And what do you wait all year for? A birthday, a holiday, a visitor, a break in the normal routine, a trip. Spooky Halloween, the night essence of free spirits on parade.

    So the girl is a witchy, crowy sort. And maybe she killed mama. Maybe having a daughter who was darker than the devil killed the old woman. Maybe what the girl's been waiting for is her Mama to be gone so that she can fully come into herself, turn all bird and never look back. Cut ties and run, so to speak.

    Crap, girl. The more times I read this, the more it seeps into my scary places.

    "step quick between the stalks"
    "where the black bell hangs"
    "Cat's cradle noose in the dark"
    "Til it tremble, til it burn, til it talk"

    Sheesh. Shudder. Sigh. More, please.

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  4. Amazing crescendo you end this spooky foretaste of autumn with! Tim Burtonesque

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  5. I don't think so... stay away from me...

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  6. Whoa! bring this one out again at Hallowe'en. Chillin'!

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  7. The fine lines just fly at the readers and pierce our skin, a permanent part of us.

    Jeezle! This is (as always) wicked good.

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  8. Not sure what I find most disturbing - the picture or the poem!

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